Dead Lifeboats
by Bobbie
Summary: Update! I'm on a roll. Something short and sweet, but mind the rating, I tell you. A friend of mine has turned me on to the concept of the interlude...
1. Chapter One

Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were.

  


A/N: Found this going through some of my old disks. Don't know whether I'll continue or not, but I sure am tired of all the Hamayi/Mutio fic out there. Here's something to change it up a little.

  
  


_I drift along the ocean  
Dead lifeboats  
In the sun  
And come undone  
Pleasantly caving in  
I come undone.  
  
Heaven smiles above me  
What a gift here below  
No one knows.  
Gift that you give to me  
No one knows_  
QUEENS OF THE STONEAGE.

  
  


**Chapter One**

  
  


Kino grimaced, flinching at the sound of another hiss from Hayami. For the fourth time since she'd been directed to aid the on-board medic in cleansing and treating his less serious injuries, she found herself nearly dropping the antiseptic-soaked gauze held daintily in her fingertips. Retracting the makeshift sponge from a series of gashes that dotted his badly bruised torso, she nibbled her lip uneasily before letting out a shaky sigh, chancing a quick look up at his face, the remorse she felt painfully evident upon her youthful countenance.

  
  


"I'm sorry," she muttered softly, averting her gaze from his swollen eyes and bloodied nose after only a few seconds, leaning forward in her chair to take a deep breath. She didn't know why she'd offered to help, knowing that the sight of blood made her nauseous.

  
  


"Stop saying that."

  
  


His voice was harsh, grating, raw from disuse and strained from the effort it was taking him not to breath too deeply. The medic has informed him the moment she'd examined the discoloration over his ribcage that he likely had sustained a few fractures, and that too much movement might cause a collapsed lung—a condition that the Blue's medical facilities were not equipped to handle.

  
  


"Hayami, no talking. We can't do anything about the internal damage until we reach base—" The medic was dismissed with an aggravated wave from Hayami, who managed to narrow at least one of his eyes in her direction before letting them fall closed once more. The woman, older than Kino, but not by much, smiled mischievously down on her as she finished examining the damage done to Hayami's left side. Kino summoned her own polite smile in return, though she felt as though it came out a little wobbly, before turning back to her task at hand, once again gnawing on her lip nervously.

  
  


"I have to go to the medical supply closet to fetch some supplies—mainly something to help keep those ribs steady until we dock," the medic announced idly as she buzzed about the two of them in the already confined area of the sick bay. She paused in the doorway long enough to send a wink to Hayami, her hand resting lightly on the jamb, errant ebony strands falling from the loose ponytail at her nape, and Kino couldn't help the frown the sight evoked; was she flirting with him? "I'll be sure to pick up some healthy pain killers while I'm at it." She ducked out of sight, only to pop back in a moment later to give a nod to Kino. "Oh, um, why don't you work on cleaning up his face while I'm gone. I'll be working on his nose as well."

  
  


She fought the urge the mumble mockeries the moment the woman had left, grudgingly pushing herself to her feet and glaring at the empty doorway before turning her attentions back on Hayami, surprised to find that he was watching her, one corner of his bloodied mouth lifted in a wry smirk. She blinked, still not used to the vision he presented, so beaten and sullied that he was barely recognizable. She didn't know whether it was worth the effort to rid his face and chin of the blood that had begun to cake and darken in some areas. With all the bruising and swelling, he'd still look like hell.

  
  


Again, she sighed, raising a shaky hand to dab lightly at the mess on his chin, leaning in closer to observe her progress, her brows lowered in concentration. "What's that look for?" she mumbled absently, narrowed gaze flickering towards his briefly. She became less hesitant as she worked, discovering no new cuts beneath the drying layer of blood, applying a little more pressure so that she wouldn't have to be forced to look upon the sorry sight that he presented for longer than necessary.

  
  


She noticed one shoulder lift awkwardly, a futile attempt at a shrug on his part, before his lips parted, his mouth at eye level. "Jealous?" he ventured, his voice reduced to a cautious whisper, though a hint of amusement could be detected nonetheless.

  
  


Kino scowled, resisting the sudden urge to give him a good shove, and instead applying a little more pressure than needed with the final swipe along his chin, forcing his head to tilt back slightly. He only smiled wider in response as she straightened, one arm akimbo as she tossed the used gauze aside. "You're incorrigible," she reprimanded, though her voice lacked its usual vigor when engaged in back-and-forth with him. He noted this with a lift of his brows and an attempt at a chuckle, which only resulted in a tidal wave of new pain that sent him clutching his midsection and bending forward so as to catch his breath.

  
  


"You idiot!" Kino hissed, immediately reaching out, her hands resting upon his trembling shoulders. "Can't you be more careful? You're only going to make things worse…"

  
  


Her voice trailed off as he raised his head, that cocky grin still firmly in place, contagious in spite of the splash of crimson just above it. She snorted, shaking her head as she stepped back from him, moving around the examining table on which he sat to fetch another roll of gauze and a bottle of alcohol. Several moments passed, in which she was certain he was still doing his best to keep from laughing at her, and she would've have been a little more severe towards him had it not been for the diversion that had suddenly decided to pop into her tired mind. She began to giggle in spite of herself, biting back on the laughter that was bubbling up, glancing once at him over her shoulder. She gave up on the battle, laughing out loud as she returned to her task, blotting the blood on his upper lip, ignoring the curious look he was giving her even as the laughter subsided to the occasional chuckle, until all that was left was a sparkle in her eye and a small smile.

  
  


He moved to speak, taking a careful breath as hip lips parted, but she held a finger over his mouth, shaking her head in silent warning. "None of that," she reminded him, and the look he gave her could only be described as a pout, his shoulders falling slightly, mouth turning down in a subtle frown, appearing as a subdued child having been dealt the wrath of his mother. In spite of her earlier resolve to let him stew, she had pity on him, divulging the source of her entertainment as she finished dabbing and swiping.

  
  


"You…" she paused, another giggle interrupting, before she took a breath to continue, "You've lost a tooth…" She brushed a finger lightly over his upper lip before backing away, sobering quickly as she began to bustle about the room, gathering up random scrap and utensils in an effort to avoid eye contact.

  
  


He seemed unaware of the sudden change in her behavior, his frown deepening as he probed tentatively behind his upper lip, his less swollen eye widening slightly when finding a small gap. He managed a muffled curse, taking advantage of the opportunity presented by her lack of attention to venture a sentence. "I must be a beautiful sight right about now, huh?"

  
  


Kino stood perfectly still, her back to him as her hands fumbled with a roll of tape. She could hear rapidly approaching footfalls echoing in the hallway outside and assumed it was the medic returning with the necessary supplies. Gathering her courage, she put down the tape and turned to appraise him over her shoulder. A long moment passed in which she held his gaze, unwavering, her elven features unreadable. The mirth slowly melted from his countenance, until his expression mirrored her own, doing his best to conceal his apprehension. Finally, just as the medic made her reappearance, Kino broke the silence, her voice soft but profound as she continued to meet his stare.

  
  


"Yeah. You are."

  
  


Hayami wasn't given a chance to respond before she slipped out of the room, jaw lax, lips parted in silent surprise. The medic merely cocked an inquisitive brow, standing awkwardly by the doorway with an armful bandages and medication, staring at length at the empty space that Kino had moments earlier occupied before turning her focus on the wounded man who seemed to have been leveled by the departed girl's last words. Sighing wearily, she moved to a nearby workspace, dumping the supplies and beginning to prepare some of the bandages for use.

  
  


"Damn," she murmured in the heavy silence, "what did I miss?"


	2. Chapter Two

A/N: Well, I can hardly believe it. I actually wrote another chapter. And it's longer than the first. And it's actually pretty decent, if I may say so myself. Song credits belong to the Toadies. Enjoy.

  


_Give me back my legs  
I want to walk like I did  
You stole away my breath, floating over my head  
Do you lead me on with your fingers across my back, well  
When I drag you down you will sink like an anchor  
You will, like an anchor…_

  


**Chapter Two**

  


He remembered the first time he saw her.

He'd never given it much thought before; after all, the world had seemed to come undone soon afterwards, and circumstances had left precious little time for silent ruminations about anything, let alone first impressions. And now, only weeks later, it felt like years since he'd first heard her voice, it's pitch betraying her youth, but its tone reverberating with authority and a pride that seemingly could not be shaken. A culmination that gave away her the naïveté of her views, the innocence that painted the world black and white and kept the lines solid.

He'd made his assumptions then, putting her in a box with the all the other ignorant assholes he'd ever have the misfortune of coming across, and then, he'd seen her face, and in that moment…

Hayami sighed, lids closing over tired eyes that had lost their focus long ago, brow furrowing as his weary mind carried him away from his bunk in the cramped quarters of the base to that day…the sounds, the images just as clear, as though they'd waited for him, for a time that he might recall them, and wonder. And now, as much as he'd have liked to look back on that day with at least a hint of a smile, he couldn't. He'd been steeped in futility, having given up hope for a guilt-ridden acceptance of whatever God-forsaken end awaited him. There had been no aspirations, no goals for a future that didn't exist…nothing but a pathetic washout, a vacant shell.

And all he'd wanted to do the moment he'd taken in her wide eyes, still alive and reflecting the spirit that still writhed within, fueled by a passion born of hatred for an enemy she'd never understand, was to take it all away. To make her as empty and careless as he was, to find the source of the flame and snuff it out…to break her. She would see how senseless it was, she would see the world as he saw it then. No longer struggling to stay alive, but already dead and soaked with the stench of decay.

Beyond saving. Just like him.

Surprisingly, it hadn't turned out at all like he'd thought it would. It seemed he'd fallen prey to her disease instead; contagious as she'd been, she'd breathed new life into a lost cause. Her blind devotion had infuriated him to the point of distraction, and a drive to prove her wrong, to prove them all wrong…in the end, that had been his motivation. And in the end, he'd wound up being labeled a hero.

None of it made absolutely any sense. He'd made up his mind never to gracefully accept the role he'd been given, never to return the lingering looks of gratitude that plagued him wherever he went. It was a farce. Sure, the world would keep spinning on its axis, and sure, he might have played a part in that…but had it all been worth it? Was this the life he wanted to live?

Hell, no. Still, he wasn't quite sure what he wanted anymore. Except for one thing.

He wanted to know why. After all that had happened, all that she'd witnessed, what had made her look at him like that when he'd likely been in the worst shape of his life? And he wanted to know…would she ever do it again?

He hated this. Lying wide awake, in the early hours before dawn, plagued with ridiculous thoughts of a slip of a girl that had somehow managed to, quite easily, work her way beneath his skin. He could chalk it up to a lack of sex; bring everything into focus with a rather simplistic view. After all, his last encounter with a woman had been weeks before his return to the fleet, and even then, the event had been muddled by an eclectic concoction of drugs and alcohol. He fancied he couldn't perform otherwise, but then again…

He groaned, a grimace twisting his features as he shifted on the stiff mattress, letting his arm dangle over the edge of the bunk as he came to rest on his stomach, ignoring the ache the new position caused. He knew beyond a doubt he would need no assistance should an opportunity with Kino present itself. It was exasperating. In part because she was a shipmate and fellow pilot, in part because she was so damn young, but most of all because he knew that, after all was said and done, she'd likely hate his guts.

It was at this point, the same point that he'd reached during these midnight contemplations for the past two weeks, that's he'd recall something completely off the wall: the smell of her hair; the sound of her voice during those rare moments when she wasn't berating him; the way she'd felt pressed against him, her face buried in his jacket while she'd cried for those she'd lost to Zorndyke; how she'd listened as he confided his fears, her delicate arms wrapping around him, her head a comforting weight upon his shoulder…And all the reasons why he should just leave it alone weren't enough.

Fuck it all. Something had to give.

  


****

  


He was stuck working detail with Alessandro, a task that wouldn't have been so daunting had he been assigned with someone else. The guy just didn't know when to shut up. The silent treatment didn't work at all. In fact, the engineer seemed to appreciate the opportunity to have a completely one-sided conversation, mostly about his fascination with the female form, mainly that of Freeda, who amazingly seemed to have finally given in to his persistence, something that Hayami couldn't comprehend in the slightest.

The latest subject of his endless prattle diverted from its normal course that morning, causing Hayami to pause briefly and cock a curious brow in the chatterbox's direction. His attention wavered, however, as Alessandro took to glorifying his participation in the upcoming pomp and circumstance that would be upon them by the end of the week, when the last of the fleet had gathered together to officially celebrate their "victory".

"We'll get medals, all of us. You, too, Hayami. Hell, they'll save the best for you. I mean, you're the one who—"

His voice was silenced by the ominous pressure of an oily wrench against his cheek, his wide eyes lifting to gaze sidelong at Hayami, who's countenance was marred with an irate sneer, his timbre dangerously low as he spoke his first words of the day.

"Just shut the fuck up."

Alessandro nodded jerkily, face pale as he watched Hayami return to his work as though nothing had happened. An awkward silence dominated until the engineer felt his heart beat return to normal, gathering the courage to voice an inquiry that might very well earn him more than a wrench in his face. The pilot was intimidating, yes, but he was also a mystery, enigmatic in the manner of an elusive cultural icon; the only people to have known him beyond his qualifications were the captain, who treated him no differently than any other subordinate; Yuri, who seemed to despise him, which of course made him instantly likeable, in his opinion; and Kino, who was the one to have assisted him in that final, crucial mission to Antarctica. It wasn't surprising that rumors abounded concerning just about every aspect of the poor sucker's life, rumors that roused questions which could only be answered by one person. And only a complete idiot would be so forward as to just come out and ask…

A bout of nervous laughter dispelled the quiet as Alessandro busied his hands with quality control checks, chancing quick glances now and again towards his brooding co-worker. "Take it easy, Hayami. It's not like you'll have to tap-dance in front of everyone." His broken chuckles faded, his efforts to lighten the mood abandoned with a sigh. Clearing his throat, he plowed forward, afraid he'd lose his nerve if he didn't just go on and say something.

"This…" He gestured uselessly with a probe in his hand, unsure whether or not anything he said was getting through at all to Hayami; a part of him actually hoped he'd go on ignoring him like he always did. "This doesn't have something to do with Kino, does it?"

Hayami's posture stiffened, his profile unreadable, seemingly lost in his thoughts, and Alessandro prepared himself for the worst, lowering his head and raising his shoulders, squeezing his eyes shut against the blow that was bound to come. Several seconds passed before he ventured a peek, only to find the pilot in the same pensive stance as before, arms limp and dangling between bent knees, one hand barely curling around the forgotten tool in his hand. The engineer relaxed, blinking several times in mild surprise; had he actually guessed right? His brows shot up when Hayami canted his head in his direction, avoiding eye contact, confusion breaking through his stoic expression.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" The query was gruff, but not as harsh as one might come to expect from Hayami. If anything, the pilot sounded genuinely curious.

Alessandro stuttered, apparently at a loss. Hadn't he been the one wanting to search for answers? "I…I don't know. It's just…some of us were wondering why she put in for a transfer…I mean, sure, you guys don't seem to get along so well, but, hey, look at me and Free—"

The sound of metal clattering against metal interrupted him, and Alessandro glanced up from his workstation, the sight of Hayami's retreating form summoning a frown and a half-hearted protest. "Hey! What the hell? Where are you going?! We're not done yet!"

He sighed, anger giving way to anxious deliberation as he poured over the work that had yet to be completed. Narrowing his eyes at Hayami's abandoned wrench, he shook his head, removing his cap to run a hand through his hair wearily.

"Was it something I said?"

  


****

  


Two weeks.

It seemed longer than that, but she attributed that to the fact that she hadn't been able to really think of anything or anyone else. She hated him for that. Hated him for being so non-committal about everything, hated him for up-staging everyone without breaking a sweat, hated him for being so damn reckless…

Hated him because, for all she knew, she was in love with the bastard.

She hadn't wanted to analyze anything before. How she'd gotten so angry with him for taking off in the Grandpas and nearly getting himself killed, how being near him had made her afraid and excited at the same time…But all the pieces came crashing into place in an instant of blinding clarity, left alone with him in the med lab. Nothing had happened, really, to confirm or deny any changes in the relationship that existed between them. Her words could have been interpreted any number of ways, and had she bothered to wait for his reaction, she might know whether her admission had made any impact.

Knowing Hayami, however, he'd probably brushed the whole thing off the moment she'd walked out. She wished she could do the same. Hopefully, transferring to another fleet would bring her back to her senses. She'd be useless if she stayed, pining over someone who barely acknowledged her existence, worrying about how she acted around him, thinking of ways to avoid him to keep from making a fool of herself…

"Ouch!"

She dropped the analytical device she'd been cradling in her palm, sparks flying from an area she'd touched with the aluminum probe. She glared at the fried piece of equipment laying at her feet, muttering an oath as she turned her attentions back to the panel that would now most likely need replaced. Arms akimbo, she bowed her head, closing her eyes and taking a few deep breaths to ground herself. Keeping her focus was becoming harder to do every day. And it was all his fault.

"Dammit, Mayumi, pull yourself together," she murmured to herself, stooping to gather the broken analyzer, holding the piece in her left hand while she examined her right, frowning when she realized she'd likely get a blister. The jerks in I.T. would hear about this…she wasn't supposed to even be doing computer scans on submersibles, but she'd hoped keeping busy would take her mind off other things. She pivoted in the cramped quarters of the vessel, making her way back to the top hatch and tossing the instrument up through before climbing up the ladder, silently reminding herself to remember to wear her gloves the next time.

No sooner had her head cleared the opening did she realize that she wasn't alone. She cast a wary glance about, slowly ascending the rest of the way and coming to a standing position on the top of the submersible before she saw him, crouched upon the deck one level above her. He was staring at her. She blinked, lips parting perhaps in a subconscious effort to ask him just how long he'd been there, but no words came. Neither made a move to speak, the silence drawing out, seconds turning to minutes, and she was reminded of that time in the med lab only two weeks before. Had she been wrong?

It was unnerving, having him stare at her so openly without pretense, and the urge to plainly demand exactly what it was that he wanted was nearly overwhelming. She was the first to turn away, averting her gaze to a random spot on the dock, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks as she slipped her hands in the pockets of her jumpsuit. Unable to subdue the need to break the spell, she searched her frazzled mind for something to say, opting for the first cognizant sentence that popped up.

"Well, you're looking better since I last saw you." _Stupid!_ She bowed her head, hiding the wince that briefly crossed her face, before peering up at him through her lashes, sticking with the subject before the silence could take over again. "How are your ribs?"

He smirked down on her, and for a moment, she felt a wash of relief come over her. _It's nothing_, she told herself reassuringly. _He's probably just here to tell me I'm needed for a debriefing with the other pilots. Nothing to worry about._

"They hurt like hell," he replied, slowly standing and moving towards a nearby stairwell. Taking advantage of having his back turned, she let her shoulders slump, one hand resting upon her churning stomach, releasing a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding in a sudden whoosh. She'd recovered by the time he'd descended to the dock, not wanting to watch his approach but unable to divert her attentions elsewhere. After all, if everything went as planned, she'd be halfway around the world by the following week; this could be the last time she got to talk to him. And as much as she told herself she just wanted to forget about him, she knew she never would. _Just one more memory._

He stopped at the edge of the dock, canting his head to the side to peer at her with his right eye, his left obscured by a dark shock of hair. "Got a new tooth, though," he added, his tone carrying a hint of mirth, pointing to his mouth and baring his teeth in a grin. She felt her heart stop at the sight of him then, struggling to act blasé, or at least throw back a smirk of her own. Instead, she quickly lowered her gaze, her hands fisted at her sides, silently admonishing herself for being so obvious. She couldn't do this. She couldn't pretend that she felt nothing when she looked at him, and she couldn't pretend that everything was like it always had been, and so she abandoned her attempts at casual back-and-forth, stooping suddenly to retrieve the forgotten equipment at her feet while mumbling something about being too busy to talk, deliberately keeping a wide girth as she jumped to the dock. She didn't care if he thought she was acting strangely, she just knew she needed to get away from him before she did something she'd regret.

"Why are you avoiding me?"

His calm inquiry caused her to stumble in her retreat. She eventually came to a stop, the increased distance between them doing nothing to alleviate the weight that pressed in around her heart, making it harder for her to breathe in his presence. She kept her back to him, unwilling to let him see her face, transparent as she tended to be.

"What are you talking about?" Her voice was a mere whisper that echoed in the emptiness of the docking bay. She hoped there still remained the chance of easing out of her corner unscathed. Perhaps if she played dumb…

"I know about the transfer request."

In the pregnant stillness that followed his soft-spoken statement, her saving grace came in form of a rush of anger that suddenly overcame her, borne of a combination of her own insecurities and his self-centered assumptions, which just happened to be correct. Still, what right did he have to pry? Had he come for a good laugh? To confirm his suspicions and humiliate her even further? She felt a growl rising in her throat, unaware of the analyzer falling from her hands as she pivoted around and strode towards him. She didn't give him time to react, didn't register the look of surprise plastered upon his face, coming within arm's length before bringing her hand up and smacking him solidly against the cheek with her open palm.

She felt her chest heaving, the heat rising off her skin, and was grateful to feel something familiar. This she could handle all too well. "You egotistical, condescending, selfish, annoying bas—"

Her tirade was stifled immediately when, without warning, he closed the distance that separated them, his hands unyielding as they cradled her face, forcing her mouth to meet his. She hadn't expected him to kiss her, and she certainly never imagined it would be so demanding, so hungry, so passionate. She heard herself whimper, the sound muffled as she surrendered, closing her eyes and parting her lips when she felt the brush of his tongue. She clenched the fabric of his jumpsuit, more for the sake of keeping her balance than anything else, heady with the sensation of his mouth on hers.

Just as quickly as it had begun, it ended. He broke away, pulling back to stare down on her, his eyes dilated and swirling with emotion. They were both breathless from the intensity of the kiss, and she wondered if he might kiss her again as she felt his hold on her lessen, one gloved hand trailing along her jaw, down her neck to hover at the base of her throat, his gaze following his movements as his hand went even lower. She lowered her eyes, feeling her heartbeat quicken even more as she felt the feathery caress of his fingertips come agonizingly close to tracing the curve of a breast, her muscles tensing involuntarily.

He withdrew his hands suddenly, taking a step back from her and pressing a palm against his forehead, forcing her to stare up at him anxiously, the intoxicating effects of his kiss lingering, slowing her thought processes to near stand-still. She watched, dumb-struck, as he back-pedaled, eventually turning and climbing the staircase, determined strides carrying him out of the bay without a second glance in her direction. She was left alone to come to her own conclusions about what had just happened and why, her fingers reaching up to carefully caress her swollen mouth, the taste of him still alive on her tongue.

  


_And as I'm falling out of the sun, back to where I feel safe again  
How did I come undone trying to save my own skin  
I want to be your hero  
I want to show you the good fight  
I want to touch your face before you sink like an anchor  
You will, like an anchor_

You'll come down on my side  
You'll come down in good time  
You'll come down on my side  
You'll come down...


	3. Chapter Three

A/N: Once again, song credits belong to the Toadies. Sorry for the wait. Life can be a bitch.

  


_Peel away your skin, just a little more.  
You can let me in, just a little more.  
Can you taste it? I do.  
When you bite down on the truth.  
You can peel away, just a little more.  
I'll cut you right down to your sweetness._

  


**Chapter Three**

  


"…gathered together, to proclaim in one voice, that mankind can overcome any obstacle set forth, that no foe can stand against the undying hope that is an innate part of every one of us…"

  


Kino winced inwardly, a dance of white bursts amidst black ebbing in her peripheral vision, as the speaker continued to drone on about the superiority of the human race. Her short stature and her rank guaranteed a position in the front of the carefully organized group of men and women that were the heart of the fleet, which meant keeping her eyes open and her posture stiff for the rather impressive audience that had gathered for the day's ceremonies. A task made all the more difficult by her recent lack of sleep and the thoughts that plagued her troubled mind. Flanked by Yuri and Shidora, the weight upon her shoulders seemed to increase ten-fold.

  


Hayami had yet to make an appearance. Not to say that she wasn't relieved by his absence; after their last encounter, she was anxious as to what might happen should they meet again before…She blinked rapidly, the muscles of her jaw clenching as she focused on her breathing, making miniscule adjustments to her stance—a slight bend of her knees, an almost unnoticeable roll of her tensed shoulders—to improve the flow of blood to her head, to chase away the vertigo, the light-headedness. Somehow, she didn't think she could attribute it all to having been made to stand at attention for hours on end. Four days, and she could still feel the crushing intensity of his mouth devouring hers.

  


Four days, and she still didn't know what the hell it all meant. Did he want her to stay? Did her words, her presence, really make much of a difference in his world? Considering she would be leaving in less than 24 hours, she didn't think she wanted to find out.

  


Still, she couldn't help the anger that welled up within, an emotion that nearly overcame all the doubt. There would be questions…already she'd caught the eyes of a few of her colleagues, could feel the stares that caused the flesh of her nape to tingle…they all expected her to answer for him, as if having been forced to be in the same Grampus with him could have possibly given any more insight to Hayami's inner workings, his hidden agendas. She was just as clueless as the day she'd wandered into his lowly water-logged hiding hole, her tentative inquiries met with the cold, unforgiving sight of a pistol held by an unwavering hand. And yet…

  


She'd known. She'd counted on him not being there, her eyes having scoured the masses, daring whatever Powers That Be to prove her intuitions wrong. It wouldn't be like him to give a damn. At least, not about what people thought. That didn't matter. Her mind conjured the vision of him shaken and bloody, his body beaten, his soul seemingly fractured…and it kept her ire at bay. Perhaps she did understand him a little more.

  


For Hayami, there had been no victory, no room for praise or celebration. She'd thought her feelings had been borne out of hero worship, a silly infatuation for the man who'd ended the life of a man she'd hated for as long as she could remember. Given time to analyze the events of that day in Antarctica, she'd come to realize that wasn't it at all. It wasn't even close.

  


She was roused from her ruminations by the jab of an elbow from her left. "Kino!"

  


She ground her teeth at the admonition in Yuri's harsh whisper, keeping her eyes forward and her countenance blank and emotionless as she stepped out of formation, her movements practiced and graceful and she pivoted towards the speaker's podium, ignoring the scrutinous gravity of a thousand pairs of eyes. She received her recognition with the same flat affect, meeting the captain's solemn gaze with a sidelong glance as she saluted an ominous line of admirals and decorated superiors, surprisingly satisfied to note that his characteristic smirk was missing. She held on as long as she could, as though she could communicate her thoughts through that brief visual contact, and once again, she was taken aback when he answered her stare with a subtle nod.

  


_So, you understand, too?_

  


She averted her gaze elsewhere, eyes front but unfocused, the new weight of a medal hanging about her neck nearly forgotten as she completed her salute, retracing her steps back, intent on returning to the vacant spot between Yuri and Shidora…but her feet carried her further, steps quickening as she approached the edge of the dais, oblivious to the worry and confusion her actions roused in her colleagues as she fought to keep from breaking into a run in her haste to escape. From what, she wasn't quite sure. She didn't want to think anymore. The more she thought, the less sense it made. For as long as she'd anticipated mankind's victory over Zorndyke, his death had done astonishingly little to appease her. The void remained.

  


Hayami had tried to tell her all along. He'd tried to make her see. She hated him for it. And for the same reasons…she loved him.

  


Emerging into the empty corridors beyond the main auditorium, all propriety was shed, a choked sob echoing off the polished metal walls along with her footfalls as she ran, blindly seeking the only consolation to be had. She had to find him, to let him know that his message had finally gotten through, to vanquish her pride and fear long enough to tell him all that needed to be said before she never saw him again.

  


To tell him the truth, before she lost her only chance.

  


****

It was all so fucking ridiculous.

  


Hayami glared down at the embroidered cap he held clutched in his hand, his knuckles white with the emotion that boiled just beneath the surface. His gaze shifted slightly to take in the formal attire he wore, the smooth, unyielding charcoal-colored fabric, the new badges that adorned his left breast, the brand of the Fleet's insignia blazing above his immaculately stitched name, the polished buttons, feeling the pressure of his starched collar pressing against his Adam's apple as his chin tilted lower. The knots in his stomach tightened, a cold sheen of sweat upon his furrowed brow as he crushed the cap in both fists before letting it fall to the floor.

  


He was going to be sick.

  


Boots squeaking upon the polished tile of his room, he bolted towards the slightly ajar door of his adjoining bathroom, not bothering to flip on the light as he disappeared inside, making it to the edge of the sink just as he began to heave. His body tried to ease the waves of nausea that wracked him, but nothing came as he balanced himself above the chrome drain, his arms trembling with the weight they carried, his eyes squeezed shut in an effort to alleviate the dizziness as he gagged and coughed. The pain from his healing ribs was amplified ten-fold with every fruitless abdominal spasm, only adding to his impetus to vomit. Several dry heaves later, he forced a growl to fight off the next contraction, one shaky hand blindly clutching his collar, neck twisting and turning as he pulled, stopping only at the satisfying pop of the top button giving way. His nostrils flared as he struggled to take slow, deep breaths, in spite of the mending bones is his side, lifting his eyes to the darkened reflection that scowled angrily back at him. He kept his focus as he spit one last time into the porcelain basin, his gaze taking in the beads of sweat, his newly shorn, spiky black hair, looking as though he'd just stepped from the shower, feeling anything but clean.

  


He pushed away from his post, his fingers tingling from gripping too hard, staggering slightly before regaining his footing and turning disgustedly away from the mirror. Shuffling back into the dim light of his barracks--a rather expansive set-up compared to the cramped quarters of Blue 6, but perks such as these came with the title of "Guy with the Biggest Set of Brass Balls"—he made his way to the large window that dominated one wall of the room, narrowed eyes peeking through the slits in the blinds, struggling not to blink against the dying rays of the sun. He idly took in the battered vessels that were the remainder of the Atlantic and Pacific Fleets, knowing the only remaining constituent of the Blue Fleet wouldn't be found among them. Haughty sons o' bitches, the lot of them. It was the end of the war, he knew, supposedly the beginning of something else…but he sure as hell didn't see why they had anything to celebrate. Life would go on, hard as ever, the seas just as unforgiving with or without Zorndyke and his monsters.

  


He didn't know why he'd bothered pulling that fucking trigger. It hadn't made that much of a difference, really.

He began working on the buttons of his uniform, still brooding over why he'd gotten dressed at all. He hadn't actually planned on following through and showing up like a good little sailor, eager to receive the obligatory pat on the back that the Fleet was so graciously offering. That hadn't been his motivation at all. What he'd wanted, what he'd hoped for, what he didn't want to acknowledge was that…

To see her. The ceremony was just an excuse to be with her. To perhaps show her a part of him that had likely died a long time ago, when he'd been forced to abandon Katsura at the bottom of the ocean. To gauge her reaction when she fully realized that he, too, was a part of her precious Fleet. Fuck it all…_he didn't want her to leave._ Maybe he was grasping, searching for a reason to make her stay.

  


So pathetic.

  


Just what the hell then? If he'd gone, if any of his act had its desired effect, and she'd changed her mind and tore up the damn transfer papers…what would come of them? He would have to do more. Things couldn't go back to being the way they were before their kiss; trying to pretend it never happened would only make her regret never having left in the first place.

  


And besides, did he really want to pretend nothing had happened? If so, then what was his drive for making her stay? It made no sense at all, and denial would do nothing to make all the questions disappear. Deep down, he knew exactly what he wanted to do if he could keep her there. The only uncertainties were just how long it would take, and what would happen afterwards. He wanted to feel guilty, to shun the burning within his gut, to make the blood run ice cold in his veins, but he'd stepped over the line four days ago, and standing still was driving him mad. He was beginning to just not give a fuck what she thought. Desperation had him soiling his sheets in the night. Want was turning to need, and she hadn't left yet.

  


He jerked off the officer's coat, decorations and all, the sleeves yanked inside out as he tossed the bulky clothing across the room to land in a messy heap at the foot of his bed. "Fuck!" he growled, his voice resonating with the depths of his frustration. He was such a fucking coward…a few more hours, and she would be gone, and he could fall from the peak of a nonsensical hope to the nadir of regret. Regret…that was something he was used to, something he was more capable of handling.

  


Automatically he began searching his immediate surroundings for a cigarette, reaching back to jerkily pull his sweat-soaked undershirt over his head, turning away from the window and cursing under his breath. When the cotton barrier was lifted, his eyes adjusting once again to the darkness of his room, he froze, his gaze fixated upon the entryway to his quarters. He didn't blink, for fear the combination of heat, insomnia, and unchecked emotion had gotten to him and he was seeing things. After all, he hadn't heard the telltale swoosh of the automatic door, nor a preceding knock or buzz from the intercom…

  


Kino stood transfixed on the opposite side of the room, eyes wide and shining, her chest heaving, her back pressed against the metallic slab that served as a door. He didn't move, couldn't breathe, the quest for a cigarette and the task of ridding himself of his shirt forgotten as he absorbed the sight and sound of her: the way she fought not to make a sound as she continued gasping for her breath, an occasional whimper escaping; the way she clutched her cover* to her midsection, hand fisting as she pressed it against her stomach, almost like it was a security blanket of some sort; the tears that glistened upon her ruddy cheeks, her chin trembling with repressed sobs; the gaudy medal that now lay at the base of her throat, glimmering insolently in the waning twilight with every shaky breath she took. Both seemed afraid to move, unsure of the consequences should the spell be broken. Gradually, he became aware again, as if breaking through the surface to taste the air after being under for too long. He watched, captivated, as the grip upon her cap loosened, her breaths becoming less ragged, her eyes never leaving his face as her other hand tentatively reached for the control pad to her right, his ears catching the unmistakable sound of bolts sliding into place, locking her in with him. She finally broke the stare, slowly closing her eyes, lower lip tremulous as her arms fell to her sides, seemingly unaware as her cap tumbled to the floor.

  


A silent invitation. He wasn't about to wait for confirmation; as far as he was concerned, he had waited too fucking long.

  


****

  


She had no expectations when she'd found herself nearing Hayami's quarters, hadn't given herself the time to develop them. She had one goal in mind, and after she'd accomplished what she'd set out to do, then she'd worry about the aftershocks. Thinking about all the possible reactions she might get was only going to serve to slow her down, or to stop her altogether. She couldn't afford to put the necessary confrontation off any longer. For her to leave without looking back…she needed to know.

  


She'd been relieved to see the small, unblinking green light that glowed just above the entryway to his room, evidence that the door was unlocked. If she had to pause to knock, to announce herself, she might have lost the already tenuous hold on the courage she'd summoned to come in the first place. She'd kept her pace, never slowing even as she reached out to quickly press a button on the keypad, the metal partition instantaneously sliding back to allow her entrance. Again, she'd refused to pause to survey the interior, having stepped through without a second thought, eager to quell the maelstrom within that urged her to press forward, unwilling to contemplate how her actions might be interpreted. And the sight that greeted her as the door quickly slid closed behind her finally caused her to lose her momentum, her hiccups ceasing as she fell back, resting her weight against the cool, smooth surface as she fought to remember just what the hell she was doing.

  


She'd caught him undressing, his face hidden within the confines of a T-shirt as he pulled it roughly over his head, apparently unaware of her presence as he grumbled incoherently. But as he emerged, it took less than a second for him to notice her, his forearms still lost within the fabric of his shirt as he froze, mimicking her stance as he watched her watching him. And all the words that she'd intended on spilling forth, all the things she'd longed to say to perhaps clear her conscience and sever the tension between them were forgotten. She could feel her fear rising to overcome her, to keep her from doing what she'd come to do, and with her last shred of coherence she felt for the lock, feeling the bolts sliding into place, causing a shiver to race up her spine. Her cards were down; terrified as she might be, she wasn't going anywhere until this was resolved.

  


Whatever "this" was.

  


She'd seen his eyes flicker to her hand as she engaged the lock, had forced herself to maintain her focus even as he blinked, his gaze fixed upon her face once again, his eyes narrowing with some emotion unknown to her. The air was thick with things unsaid, and she struggled to deepen her breathing, to slow her racing heart. She felt her body slowly relax, a sort of detached numbness settling throughout her limbs as her arms fell limply to her sides. So this was what is was like to give up…

  


No. This was what it was like to _give in._

  


She'd closed her eyes then, a remnant of her earlier fear snaking its way through the holes in her fortitude, stealing herself for the tsunami that was sure to break through her barriers and leave nothing unhidden. Could he tell already, having long abandoned her feeble attempts at Stoicism? Would there be anything left to say when she'd found her voice again? Shutting out the vision of him, his entire being focused upon her, the smooth skin of his chest awash in shadows, the outline of his bare shoulders backlit by the waning light of the setting sun that crept through his window…she could feel a part of her old self returning, the part that could withstand the weight of his stare, the part that could return it ten-fold with a jaunty toss of her chin…

  


The part that didn't crumble at the mere thought of him.

  


She could feel the floor beneath her feet again, was confident she could support her weight as she started to push away from the door, deciding against opening her eyes for just a few seconds longer…But in the midst of her recovery, she heard his boots casting determined footfalls, knew that he was closing the distance that separated them even before she finally forced herself to look.

She wished she hadn't, the last bit of pride and dignity swept away as the wave broke, a stifled cry of futility erupting from Hayami as his body crashed into hers, his hands grasping her arms as she was crushed between him and the unforgiving solidity of the metallic door.

  


****

  


There would be nothing gentle about what was about to happen. He wished he'd had the strength to perhaps offer up some kind of warning, to convey the warring emotions that had drawn him to the point of brash recklessness, of pure abandon. To make her understand that he'd never want to intentionally hurt her, that his force came only from the severity of his need…

  


But there was no stopping. He wouldn't…he _could not._

  


She didn't struggle as he devoured her, the taste of her mouth, the feel of tender flesh against his teeth acting as a potion to offer some relief. This would be his catharsis, his release…his selfishness acting on instinct to bring some sort of comfort, to rid him of his torment. For now, he truly didn't care what she wanted, what her purposes had been in coming there. All that mattered was that he was free to take what he needed. Free in the sense that his conscience no longer had a part in his decisions, and that she was no match for him.

  


His brow knitted together, her touch so sweet it was pure torture not to feel all of her against all of him. He dug in with the balls of his feet, pressing even harder against her frail form, as if to mold her into his being, his pelvis and thighs keeping her immobile as he snaked one hand between them to brutally jerk the medal from around her neck, letting it fall to the floor unheeded with a jangled clutter. She made no effort to protest, only gasping into his mouth at the sharp pull of the cloth against the delicate skin of her neck. He could sense her fear, felt her trembling in spite of the pressure he placed upon her, knew her hands remained fixed by her sides, heard the harshness of every breath that she struggled to take. But she wasn't fighting him, she wasn't fighting _this_, and that only spurned him on, urging him to push the boundaries, to see just how far she'd let him go. Not that he had any intentions of easing up whatsoever.

  


His kisses were demanding, fierce, alternately licking and biting at her already swollen mouth as his fingers deftly dug beneath the thick, coarse fabric of her uniform that covered her chest, not bothering to test the give before efficiently yanking the partitions apart, brass buttons flying, some trapped between their bodies as he pulled her against his chest to shove the jacket off her shoulders, her arms stiff and thin enough to allow the uniform to slide off. Again, there was no sign of protest on her part, only the occasional whimper as he continued his assault, a muffled cry of pain as he let her fall back against the door again, one hand reaching down to hook behind her knee, lifting her leg against his hip as he rocked forward, grinding his pelvis against her brusquely. She cried out again, perhaps in pain, perhaps in pleasure or surprise, he wasn't sure. His other hand slid up her side, fingers clawing to catch the hem of the thin shirt that served as the only barrier between his chest and hers. In an instant, he held within his palm the soft fullness of one small breast, finally tearing his mouth away from hers to bend forward as he hefted up her shirt, faintly registering the rending of fabric before his tongue found one hardened pink nipple.

  


This yielded more than a gasp, her hands moving to his shoulders, fingernails digging into his skin as he nipped and suckled tender flesh. He became suddenly even more impatient, the only sound coming from him being the harsh rasps of his breathing as his fisted the hem of her shirt in his hands and forced it over her head. The mangled article of clothing was discarded carelessly, both of them now naked from the waist up as he nuzzled her neck, nipping hungrily at her collarbone, lavishing the hollow of her throat with his searching tongue. Her skin felt cool against his chest, soft, supple breasts surrendering to a wall of sinew and bone.

She had no idea what she was doing to him, or what he was doing to her. He wasn't surprised by the hesitation in her touch: the uncertainty reflected in the careful placement of her shaking hands, curled up against his chest; the tentative ministrations of her tongue and lips and she fought to match his furious pace; the gasps and cries and whimpers that betrayed her naïveté. And he knew she was frightened, tasting the salt of fresh tears as he captured her mouth once again, feeling the overt tremors coursing throughout her petite frame as he held her captive within the unyielding snare of his embrace. Still…she didn't fight, and that was all the acceptance he could ask for.

  


It was frustrating, though, having his endeavors thwarted by her blatant ignorance of what to do in circumstances such as this. She'd made no effort to loosen his belt or free him of his remaining clothing, obviously too overwhelmed to do anything but react with subtle shifting of limbs to alleviate discomfort, or to assist him in his rampage to rid of her uniform. He wasn't about to take his time doing anything, abandoning the dilemma of clothing almost immediately after getting her out of her shirt, agile fingers working dexterously at his waist, suppressing a moan of relief as some of the pressure in his groin was momentarily relieved by the parting of his zipper. He was being idiotic, he knew, in rushing things, his hands now disappearing beneath her skirt, following the smooth line of her thighs to her hips, cupping the bare flesh of her buttocks and lifting, satisfied as he felt her booted feet lock near the small of his back. He wasn't taking the time to gauge her reaction as he pressed forward, canting his head further to deepen his already suffocating kisses, reveling the feel of his hips being cradled by hers, the evidence of his arousal grinding against the silky skin of her inner thigh and the stretchy material of the thong she wore. He noticed a dramatic change in the tempo of her breathing, a hitch in her movements as she tried to break away from him, and he knew then that she was terrified. She knew there was no turning back.

  


He gyrated against her, reaching between her legs from behind and allowing her time to catch her breath as he left a wet trail along her jaw, down the left side of her neck, biting and sucking where the slope of her shoulder began. It took minimal effort to push aside the synthetic barrier that kept him from shoving into her, slightly damp from sweat or her desire, he wasn't entirely sure. There were a lot of things that remained uncertain, and yet…he just didn't care. This was what he wanted…this was what he needed. To hell with everything else.

  


It wasn't as smooth as he hoped it would be. Like everything else about her, she was just so small…the combination of her pain and fear did little to assist him in his efforts, and after three forceful thrusts, he finally found himself surrounded by her warmth, her muscles clenching spasmodically at the unfamiliar intrusion of her body. In only a few seconds, he managed to shatter any innocence that might have remained. She was clinging to him now, her arms and legs vices about his shoulders and hips, her breaths a mixture of hiccups, gasps, and sobs, each jagged exhalation a damp heat against the skin of his neck. He let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, one hand splaying against cool metal as he began to move again, struggling to stay on his feet, the muscles in his thighs and calves seemingly fatigued by the sheer volume of pleasure each thrust brought. _Not long now…_

  


If there was one gift he could grant her, taking into account that this was their first coupling, and likely her first ever, it would be the swiftness with which it was over. A myriad of conditions culminated into his release in a matter of minutes, his legs ultimately buckling beneath him, their bodies slowly sliding down along their support as he panted against the crook of her neck, strangled moans punctuating every throb, coming to rest upon his knees, with her lithe form settled upon his lap. His forehead rested upon her shoulder as he waited for his breathing to return to normal, feeling himself grow soft within her, his hooded gaze observing the rapid rise and fall of her young breasts, then shifting to stare down at her parted thighs, their joining hidden by the folds of her bunched skirt. He felt her preparing to shift and quickly grabbed her hips, stilling her movements, unwilling to part from her just yet. She obeyed, easing her grip upon him and letting the weight of her upper body shift back to rest against the door. He came with her, scooting closer, his arms wrapping around her back and her waist, closing his eyes as he lifted his head, unable to meet her gaze. He kissed her again, his touch infinitely more tender than before, swallowing her sobs until she returned his kisses with equal passion, her tears carefully swept away with the pads of his thumbs. Feeling the hum beneath his skin ebbing, he pulled back, sighing as he collapsed against her, letting the smell of her skin and sweat wash over him, content to remain as he was on the floor of his quarters, lost in her embrace, his tensions spent.

  


****

  


"Is it always like this?"

He'd been fighting sleep, her body resting next to his upon the bed, her back to him, the pale skin already darkening with the evidence of his actions from barely an hour before. He traced the curve of her spine with a single finger, seemingly fascinated by the lines of her body, the gooseflesh that erupted over her skin at his touch. He heard the uncertainty in her voice, the first words she'd spoken since coming into his quarters. He let the silence draw out before answering, knowing very well how cruel it was for him to do so, but he didn't feel obligated to be uncharacteristically nice, in spite of what had happened. He knew precisely what she was asking, needed no clarification, and deemed the inquiry an appropriate one, considering her limited experience and the various aches that likely plagued her fragile form. He felt the subtle stirrings of guilt deep within the pit of his stomach, but didn't let that show through his voice when he answered her.

  


"No."

  


He couldn't see her face, couldn't assess her reaction in the stillness of her body or the sound of her breathing. She smelled like soap, having only just emerged from the shower a few minutes earlier, only to be greeted by the sight of him sprawled out upon his bed, the rest of his clothes gone, his body half-hidden beneath pristine white sheets, his countenance placid as he feigned sleep, giving her the opportunity to leave if she wanted to. Needless to say, she hadn't, padding over to the edge of the mattress and standing over him, until at last he opened his eyes out of curiosity. Their gazes had locked for several seconds before he pulled back the sheet in a silent offer; she'd taken only a moment to discard the towel that had been wrapped around her body before carefully climbing in next to him, close enough to share the same pillow, but keeping her back to him, a few inches separating their prone forms. He'd wondered if it meant she would stay there, with the Blue Fleet…with him.

  


And now, this question, voiced with such temerity…he wondered if she was giving him another chance, seeing as how he'd royally fucked up the first time. He didn't dare to assume too much, maintaining the distance between them, knowing she needed time to mend after an affront like that. Still, his body craved her nearness once again, the familiar pull at his groin causing his brow to knit in his efforts to ignore the ache. He doubted she'd give him the chance, given his earlier treatment of her. And with this in mind, her next words, spoken in barely a whisper, essentially floored him.

  


"Show me."

  


_Cut right down to the soul, to the center of you.  
I've found me a home for the sinner in me.  
Cut right down to the soul, to the center of you.  
I've found me a home for the sinner in me.  
Sinner in me…_


	4. Interlude

_If this is a dream I'm happy you're having it with me  
I will stay and savor the way you move me  
Don't want to miss one detail, one sweet smile from your lips  
One kiss sets me adrift..._  
TOADIES

**Interlude**

Every last little detail, in and out. She needed to know…she needed to absorb it all.

Kino willed her heavy eyes open, the shadows and light and the lines between that had once been so distinct now blurring together, the same effect spilling over into her other senses as her body became heavier, her earlier aches and pains dulled. She felt as though gravity would simply pull her through the bed to the floor, and never in her life had she ever felt so completely exhausted and satisfied. Nothing had compared to this feeling of fullness; not graduating first in her class at the academy, succeeding her first mission, nor piloting a brand new Grampus. In spite of her somnolence, this moment in the early hours preceding dawn topped them all.

What made it that much more precious was that soon, it would all end, and she knew, deep down, she would never, ever feel this way again.

**----**

"What's your favorite color?"

She felt the smooth, solid surface beneath her cheek jump once with a snort, followed by a slow, steady rise of a long, tired sigh. They'd only just settled for the night, a silent, mutual agreement made between their bodies as they'd come together the last time, he collapsing upon the mattress beside her to catch his breath before pulling her torso on top of him, one hand resting heavily between her shoulder blades as the other caught her hand, holding it possessively to his chest. Nothing had passed between them since, save for the sounds of them breathing, outright pants passing into deep, drunken inhalations that harried the onset of sleep. That is, until she'd spoken.

"Are you kidding me?"

His open sarcasm, so typical and yet, after what had just transpired, seemingly out of place and undeserved, in Kino's mind, roused her temper enough so that she pushed up onto her elbows, brow furrowed into a tired scowl, her eyes blinking rapidly to fight the sleep her body so craved. "No, I'm serious. I want to know. I want to know everything."

He rolled his head to the side, scoffing as he pushed himself up so that the wall behind him supported his head and shoulders. He bit down on the urge to throw back a stinging retort so that he might while away what time they had left before morning in a luxurious and richly deserved slumber, deciding instead to humor her somewhat cute, albeit annoying initiation of "21 Questions" that would no doubt kill his afterglow. It was the least he could do. In typical Hayami fashion, however, he wasn't about to make it too easy.

"You know enough." He offered a small, sly smile, his dark eyes peering at her from beneath his lashes, baiting her as he enjoyed the site of her still swollen mouth, her naked shoulders and smooth arms, her small breasts pressed against his abdomen beneath her weight. Right at that moment, the woman-child looked decidedly more…_womanly_, chasing away whatever guilt might have remained from before.

He anticipated a volatile reaction of some sort, intending to initiate a back-and-forth similar to past attempts at conversation. The smile faded as he watched her countenance soften, her eyes drifting to her fingertips as they danced lightly upon his chest. Several long moments passed in silence, both of them sensing the air thickening once again with a familiar tension as she continued to draw irregular patterns along his breast bone, the hollow of his throat, back down to his abdomen, the sensation inadvertently causing him to hold his breath. She kept her eyes lowered, her voice calm and clear, betraying the tiredness he knew she must have felt.

"No, I don't."

He understood what she meant, the atmosphere pressing down on them both, hearts and minds coming to terms with what had not yet been said. In a sense, he was terrified, gripped by the kind of fear that comes from exploring uncharted territory, of facing the uncertain. He'd had sex with plenty of women, had handled plenty of morning-afters. In all of his encounters, he'd never thought beyond the physicality of the moment, never contemplated the complexity of a relationship. One could say the same for many fleet pilots.

Including Kino.

He took solace in the fact that, more than likely, she was just as afraid, if not more so--that her need to know everything about him was borne from the fear of not knowing what lie ahead. With that in mind, he stilled her wandering hand with his own, offering a gentle squeeze before lifting the palm to his lips longingly. His eyes flitted to her hair, and his stillness caused her gaze to lock with his, more said in that one look than could be said in any amount of words.

"Red." The playful tone was gone, replaced with one softer and more solemn, much like hers had been.

It was as though, in that one reply, an agreement was forged, an acknowledgement of what coursed and rippled beneath the surface. She smiled then, relaxing her shoulders as she nestled once more against the solidarity of his chest, thin arms snaking around his ribcage, memorizing every smell, every touch, every movement, every sound, while her weary mind endeavored to conjure another question.


End file.
